


Home, Sweet Home

by CatOfLello



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bitterness, Bittersweet Ending, Family, Ghosts, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatOfLello/pseuds/CatOfLello
Summary: Baldric goes back to his childhood home and finds the abandoned manor holds more than just old memories.





	Home, Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place years before Baldric was injured by the griffin. I hope you enjoy.

Gravel crunched under the hooves of a black horse carrying a cloaked rider with two swords slung across his back. Untamed hanging branches of oak trees began to claw at Baldric’s woollen cloak, pulling his hood from his head. The greenery only grew more tangled and wild farther down the once manicured path and he decided to dismount. Overhead squirrels ran from branch to branch chattering at him, as if warning him that he wasn’t supposed to be there. No one was supposed to be there.The witcher slowly led his horse farther down the path and studied the carved limestone archway leading to the main courtyard. The once beautiful stone nymphs were now strangled by mistletoe and ivy. It was as if nature herself was covering their nakedness.

The witcher paused before the arch, exhaling sharply before crossing the threshold. A torrent of memories crashed onto him like a wave on a rocky shore. The stable where he hid from his governess with his youngest cousin still stood next to a giant oak tree. A small archery range, now vacant, where his father tried to teach him to shoot a bow with no success. His mother’s garden now overgrown with weeds had once been filled with rare blooms from all over the continent. Only the blue Nazari roses and orange tinged sunflowers were left.

The manor house was still standing. Well mostly. Half of it was charred black and the roof was partially collapsed. Thankfully the stable was still intact because the weather was beginning to take a turn for the worst. Dark storm clouds loomed on the horizon and the wind had suddenly switched directions. It had been unseasonably cold this autumn and Baldric was almost certain he wouldn’t make it to Poviss before snow began to fall. Maybe that was why he came so late in the season. To stay in what was to be his home, his land and where, by this time, he would have a house full of kids and be married to some highborn lady. Even if the witcher hadn’t come that day and taken him by ancient law, none of this would be his. It was only a dream born from bitterness and longing for something more. Everything was lost because of his father.

Baldric began to breathe in and out in deep even breaths and lead his horse to the front of the red brick manor house. The longer he stayed there the more and more he felt like he was being watched like he was unwelcome in this place. With trepidation approached the wooden front doors and ran his hand over the intricately carved wooden door then paused. ‘How long has it been? Almost thirty years?’ he thought ‘No one has been here for decades and certainly no one is here to welcome me home. This isn’t my home anymore, the keep in Poviss is. Just going to lay low for the night then leave’ Baldric pushed the door but it didn’t budge.

‘Typical.’ muttered the witcher before shoving the door forcefully using his shoulder. The door wouldn’t budge. The black mare snorted and shook her head as if agreeing that the door is most definitely locked and it was no use.

‘No front door welcome for me.’ muttered Baldric as he backed away from the barred doors and hopping down the steps then rounded the corner of the manor quickly. He remembered how to get in. His governess would lock him and his cousin out when they had been hiding in the stable as a punishment. All he had to do was Climb up onto the overhang for the woodpile, jump onto the roof of the kitchen storeroom then climb through the window of the kitchen. Easy enough.

The first two obstacles were a breeze, however fitting through the small kitchen window proved to be a challenge. Either he had grown considerably large or the window had shrunk. With his feet firmly planted on a shelf, he struggled to pull his shoulders through the narrow window frame. The shelf he was standing on began to creak under his weight then pulled away from the wall taking the struggling witcher with it. He crashed to the countertop with a loud bang and a puff of dust and dirt then rolled to the floor. Baldric sat up on the floor with his back propped up against a heavy wooden table leg of the counter. Coughing and sneezing trying to brush the dust away from his face and hair. His silver medallion began to flutter inside his shirt.

‘Who… who are you?’ a disembodied voice echoed ‘What are you doing in my house? Get out or I’ll call the guard’

Baldric’s head snapped up instinctively towards the direction of the voice but he was still blinded. He wiped the dust from his eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the forming apparition in the doorway of the kitchen.‘My name is Baldric Talwich. Witcher’ he replied trying to blink through tears and dust but he could barely make out the shape of a woman dressed all in black.

The apparition stepped back, clutching her hands to her chest. ‘No, you are not him. You cannot be. My son is gone, he was just a boy… but you should know that witcher. One of you took him from me. Maybe it was you!’ the specter screeched in anger.

The witcher rose to his feet trying desperately to wipe the thick dust from his face. His eyes were finally rid of the irritating dust and he could see her more clearly. A petite woman with large round eyes and long flowing blonde hair. She was glaring at him with utter contempt.

‘I am Baldric of House Talwich, son of Baron Artur Talwich and Joanna of Hengfors...’

The spectre let out a piercing scream before he could finish. Her scream was so piercing Baldric covered his ears then watched as she dissolved into thin air. Baldric had been mistaken. He wasn’t alone, his mother was left to haunt the house.

‘Mother…’ the house was silent. ‘Momma come back. I can help you.’ the house was still silent.

Dust fell through the cracks of the ceiling in the hall as if someone was walking above. Baldric walked towards the hall connected to the kitchen.

‘No further’ Joanna’s ghostly voice echoed around him.

Baldric turned around trying to get a sense of which direction it was coming from but it was impossible.

‘I’m not sure if I believe you.’

‘Or if you want to believe me. I understand. Will you let me help you?’ Said Baldric

‘How? How could you possibly help me witcher? By slaying me? That is what your swords are for are they not?’

‘I’m not going to hurt you, there are other ways I can help you. I think you’re bound to the land by curse or an item.’

The only sound that could be heard was the sound of squirrels scampering into the house through the collapsed roof and the wind howling through the cracks in the walls. Baldric’s medallion still hummed faintly inside his shirt. He sat on a wobbly stool staring down at his boots and involuntarily rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. A nervous tick from his childhood.

‘Momma. Do you remember anything from when you died? Where it was? Do you know if you received a proper burial?’

The apparition of Joanna reappeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Studying the witcher with her large eyes.

‘Look at me.’ Her voice was soft and comforting, more like the voice he remembered. Baldric looked up and met his mother’s gaze. Her eyes were so filled with sorrow it made him uncomfortable. ‘You look just like your grandfather. Baldric... my son. You’ve come home…’ her voice was strangled by tears. ‘Joy fills my heart… what have they done to your beautiful eyes? Oh they have ruined them. What did they do to you?’

‘They took care of me, fed me, clothed me, made me stronger, they taught me how to survive and how to navigate the world with honour.’

Joanna sniffed then slowly gilded towards him, kneeling before him then wrapping her arms around his neck in a cold and uncomfortable embrace. ‘Bring something for me? I wish to see my flowers again.’

‘Yes, momma’ said Baldric quietly. Tears stung his eyes but he couldn’t shed them.

**********

Baldric had managed to clear a path to the door after moving several fallen timbers and breaking the seized lock with a heavy stone bust of King Vizimir. Rain pattered against the packed earth and sunken stones of the courtyard. He took the reigns of his mare and lead her to the stables and out of the approaching storm. The last thing he needed was his horse taking off in the night with most of his belongings and leaving him effectively stranded there.

The bottom had fallen out of the storm clouds. Rain was falling in icy sheets mixed with pea sized hail that stung his face and neck as he ran to the blue rose bush. He plucked as many of the blooms as he could making a clumsy bouquet then ran back inside the manor.

‘I have something for you momma.’ said Baldric as he stood in the great hall holding the ramshackle bouquet in front of him. Somehow it felt like he had done this before. His forehead was plastered with wet curls and his clothing was dripping water all over the bare floors. Soft footsteps approached from the collapsed grand staircase. Joanna materialized just feet from in front of him. Her face was alight with happiness.

‘Do you remember when you used to bring me flowers as a boy? Sometimes they still had clumps of dirt hanging from them. I missed you and your little gifts so much my heart felt as though it would burst. I also have a gift for you before I go. It was to be yours, so your father hid it away for the day you would return. There is a stone in the mantle of the fireplace in the main hall that bears my family's crest. Behind it you will find your gift.’ Joanna looked over her shoulder as if someone had called for her. She smiled back at Baldric. ‘I must go now. I love you.’

Baldric smiled through his pain. ‘I love you too.’ he whispered but she had faded away in a burst of light before she could hear it. He stood in silence contemplating the strange happenings of the last few hours. Never in his life did he dream of seeing either of his parents again. After a few moments he picked up a discarded clay pitcher and used it as a makeshift vase then placed it on a long thin table in front of what was left of a tapestry depicting hunters on horseback chasing a large stag.

The giant fireplace in the main hall was adorned with crests of his ancestors. A red stag rampant on a field of green was the crest of the Baron of Roggeveen. That was his father's crest and technically Baldric’s crest as well. Beside it was a crest that had black mountains and a white dragon on a blue background, his mother’s. The mortar around the block seemed like it had been done at a much later date than the rest of the stones.

It took him a good hour to chip away the mortar using only an old axe head he found in the yard and the bust of the former King of Redania as a hammer. In reality he could have removed the stone fairly quickly using brute force but refused to damage his mother’s crest. Like Joanna had promised buried deep inside the mantle was a long bundle wrapped in blue damask fabric and small leather pouch. Baldric laid the bundle on a banquet table and unwrapped it carefully. Inside was a sword with black marbled steel inlaid with intricate gnomish markings. The family sword. It was now his to weild. The lizard skin grip felt sure in his hands, light as a feather and balanced perfectly for him an inch from the crossguard. Inside the leather pouch was an enamelled metal brooch depicting his family crest. He ran his thumb over the face of it. Memories of his father wearing it for official occasions when he was a child.

Baldric looked out the window at the falling rain and decided he would stay for an another day then head North.

***********

One day turned into two then a week then all winter. Baldric found himself repairing holes in the cracked walls and fixing part of the collapsed roof of the old manor. Always finding another small job or repair to be done. All the while convincing himself that he was only staying for one winter. The witcher repeated this ritual every year he returned to his old family home. Making sure to have fresh flowers from his mother’s renewed garden proudly displayed in front of the moth-eaten tapestry. The ancestral seat of his family was now his home as it had always been.


End file.
